The following is a reproduction of William Henry Younce’s family biography, originally typewritten by him. Please note that the end portion of this document was missing when I found it in his family Bible. I have reproduced it as he wrote it and with his spellings and punctuations. Words in “[ ]” with a “?” following them mean that part of the word is lost due to the condition of the original page. I have tried to choose the word appropriate to the letters still showing and the context of his narration. Enjoy William Henry’s essay!
--Darlene White
History of the Younce Family
By William Henry Younce
My paternal Grandfather’s name was Philip Younce. He was
born in
Before he was 20 years old, he, my grandfather, enlisted in
the regular Army of the
The regiment left
While trying to treat with the Indians for peace, General
Wayne was attacked early one morning, just before day light, by the whole
(horde?) of treacherous savages, who had expected to find the old wary general
off his guard, and surprise and route the whole army. However, the savages were
received by the general in person and were put to flight after a short
sanguinary battle, with great loss. This battle broke the Indian power in the
During the summer, or late in the fall, after the treaty had been signed, the regiment, its term of enlistment having expired about six months prior, returned home to Wilmington, N.C., and my grandfather went back to Asheville, his home, having traveled the whole distance from Fort Wayne, to Asheville on foot, in the time of year when the rivers were all swollen with rains, enduring all the fatigues and hardships of a forest campaign, through an unbroken wilderness, for hundreds of miles.
About the year 1808, he was married to Margret Byrkett, a
German young lady of
He entered from the Government 160 acres of land in
The whole western part of
Grandfather’s meat for several years after settled on Brushcreek was squirrels, wild Turkeys and Deer. These were in abundance for several years after. By dint of hard work and great industry, he soon had a good farm opened out and a large family on hands; His children consisted of eight sons and two daughters, born in the following order:
I.
John Younce, born in
II.
Joseph Younce, born in
III.
Andrew Younce, born in
IV.
George Younce, born in
V.
Abraham Younce, born in
VI.
Isaac Younce, born in
VII.
Catharine Younce, born in
VIII.
Eli Younce, born in
IX.
Davis Younce, born in
X.
Mary Younce, born in
All these children lived to arrive at maturity, and married and had large families, before either of my grandparents died. In early life, grandfather had united with the Dunkard Church, and was for several years one of its most active Ministers, and when about 45 years old, he was made Presiding Bishop of Western, Ohio, which position he filled until his death, in 1864. His Ministerial duties in the Church extended over a period of more than 55 years.
The Church, under his charge grew from its beginning to one
of the largest congregations in the West, and most of growth and increase of
this sect of Christians in Ohio and Indiana, at this time, were directly
traceable to his own unremitting labor and unselfish toil in the work of his
Master.
His death occurred in
My paternal Grandmother’s maiden name, was Margret Brykett.
She was born, raised and married to my grandfather, in
Her life was as noble and great in good deeds as was grandfather’s. Her life was blended into his. If ever two persons had a single aim in life, and that aim to make the world the better having lived in it, it was my grandfather and grandmother, and if ever two lives were completely blended together, and two hearts beat as one, it was theirs.
Whatever grandfather done was all right and there was no there way to do it, and it was always right in grandmother’s eyes, and grandmother could, or never did, do anything wrong in grandfather’s way of seeing things. Two more agreeable lives were never spent together. What one done was always right with the other. No family jars or discords was ever heard in their home.
My grandmother, as has been already stated, died in 1862, in or near Newton, now Pleasant Hill, in Miami County, Ohio, and was buried in the Dunkard Cemetery, on the banks of the Stillwater River, four miles south of the present cite of the City of Covington, in Miami County, Ohio, and in 1864 my grandfather was laid by her side.
My grandmother Younce was the mother of ten children, eight sons and two daughters, as has been detailed on page 3, ante:--She was for thirty five years prior to her death one of the most successful Midwives in her part of the State of Ohio, and frequently was called to practice her profession, twenty and thirty miles from her home. No mother ever lost her life in confinement or its following dangers, under her ministrations.
In early life she united with the
My Maternal Grandfather’s name was Henry Mickle (pronounced
“ Mikel”). He was born in the southern
He was born about last of last Century or beginning of the
present one, in South Carolina or North Carolina, a before stated, and was
married about the year 1816 or 1817, to Elizabeth Stewart, in South Carolina.
Soon after his marriage he emigrated from
To them were born four sons and three daughters, all of
whom, except one son, lived to maturity and married and had families.
Grandfather was a German and grandmother was of Irish decent, their parents
coming from
The following are the names of my mother’s brothers and Sisters, viz:--
Mahala, my mother, the oldest child,
was born in Miami Co.,
Samuel Mickle was born in Miami Co.,
Solomon Mickle was born in Miami
Co.,
Alexander Mickle was born in Miami
Co.,
Jane Mickle was born in Miami Co.,
Mary Mickle was born in Miami Co.,
Philip Mickle was born in Miami Co.,
The above named children are the names of my mother’s brothers and sisters in the order of their births.
With my maternal grandparents I spent a large portion of my
time until I was 8 or 9 years old, and being quite a pet with them, I had happy
and pleasant times as a child. They both belonged to the
Many were the happy hours I spent with my grandfather Mickle
in hunting and fishing while I was a young lad. The forests near my
grandfather’s farm afforded great sport for hunting Deer, Wild Turkeys, and
Squirrels, and The Stillwater River, in the western part of
My father’s name was George. He was the fourth son of Philip
and Margret Younce, and was born in
The history of “ Brush Creek,” is the history of every person born on its banks, and the two are so closely interwoven, that that the history of either one, would not be complete without the history of the other, and as a consequence “ Brush Creek” will figure very extensively in the coming pages of this work, and especially in the case of my self and my associates. But I must quit these reflections and anticipations for I am not born yet at this time I am writing about, and nobody knows anything about himself before he is born, unless Darwin’s theory of our origination be true, and if it is true, we never bring any of our antecedents with us when we strike out for this planet, and out guessings and surmisings what we may have been in our former state, have never yet reached reasonable and definite solutions, in this.
My father lived and grew as other babies of his time lived and grew, and in this respect, at least, he was like all other babies, and in due course of time, according to the irrevocable laws of nature, he began to assume the shape and form of “ a bad boy.” When about five years old he had attained at his worst form of one of the “bad boys” of his neighborhood, and was a great sourse of trouble to his mother, on account of his little boyish meanness. One day, about five years old, in wandering around by himself, he, by chance, discovered the immortal “ Brush Creek.” Being of that age that children naturally take to water, especially if it is muddy and stinking, he began a childish exploration in the mud and water, and soon, after he began investigation, to his infinite joy and satisfaction, he found a lot of frog eggs and tadpoles.
Talk about heaven and its joys; it is nothing to the pleasures and hoys of a five year old boy, wading round in muddy water and gathering frog eggs, and scummy settlings of back water. In a short time his success was so great, that he had enough frog eggs and tadpoles to start and Aquarium, and began to build himself a big show house on the banks of the Creek, with the mud he carried from the pools he had been wading through for the last hour or two; Barnum never started into any animal show with half the enthusiasm and clearness of perception than father did in building his mud show that day.
His show house was built and a handful of frog eggs and about a dozen tadpoles, composed his menagerie, backed up with a lot of mud and stinking water and slime together with all the other things accumulated filth he had secured while wading and playing around in the pond, sticking in and on his hair, eyes, and whole body, as well as his “ tow linen shirt.”
While in the midst of his researches and explorations, happening to cast his eyes toward the bank of the Creek, there peering through the branches of the willows that grew upon the Creek’s banks, he saw a sight that chilled his blood like an icicle in an instant, and dampened his young enthusiasm to such a degree that he soon lost all interest in the further prosecution of the Show business.
There on the bank of the Creek, with a three foot apple tree sprout in her hands stood his mother. Nobody need to tell him what it all meant. The sight to him, though not in that place, was a familiar one. One that had met his vision many times before, and well did he remember results of such former sights. His mother was a stern and inflexible stickler for justice in her way, and as she viewed justice. Neither love, mercy or condition was ever allowed to interfere in the administration of justice at her hands.
Neither fear or favor ever allowed her to spare the rod, when her ideas of justice had been violated, and never permitted her to cease in her administration of that rare article of virtue, until the demands of justice had been amply satisfied. My father, young and tender as he was, knew all this as well as his older brothers. He stopped, stood riveted to the spot. He knew that all his researches and explorations, as well as his Show business, were about to cease, in fact, were all over for the present.
He dreaded the future much more than the past, knowing full well that his joys and pleasures in the past, were not at all commensurate with the pangs and tortures of the immediate future, then in sight. He felt that all the joys and pleasures in his life before this time, would not compensate him for the inflictions he was destined to suffer during the next minute. My father was keen in perception if he was young. He was no hard leather animal, and well did he know the beech sprout in his mother’s had, as it always had done, would leave lasting impressions. For a few minutes, that beech sprout and my father had quite a pic-nic, father furnishing the entertainment and the sprout the music.
After this interview with his mother had ended the tadpoles and frogs had a short rest. All nature put on a new smile within a few minutes after the departure of father and his mother from that historic point. Father was never certain after the culmination of the present interview with his mother, that the prayers of five year old boys were answered in heaven. He thought not, at least in his case. He had been used to a great many convenient things in his little life, prior to this day, that for a time thereafter were perfect strangers to him. Among which was the happy faculty of sitting down and turning summersaults, but these were all over for the present, and could not be found for a couple of weeks.
Father used to tell this story of his youthful life to his children as they were growing up, and took especial delight in spreading before our minds how much he loved his mother each time after she had scorched him with a beech sprout. He would say that he loved his mother more each time after she had whipped him, and I often wondered how much he must have loved her by he time he was fifteen years old, for those castigations were kept up till that age: or would think he had but very little love for her when she began those manifestations of love-begettings. However, be this as it may there always seemed to me that a discrepancy existed some where and I always tried to reconcile it on a theory that my father was a strictly truth-teller.
These latter remarks and reflections of his were always brought to mind, when he would apply the rod to some of us children. He would take great pains to impress upon our minds, how much more in after life we would like him for having licked us so often in youth. At the time, I did not, exactly see the thing in that light, and during all my life, since, I have been trying to reconcile the seemingly inconsistent protestations father would always make, about how much more he always loved his mother after she had whipped him, on the theory that he was a wonderfully constituted young chap, but entirely truthful. Say, I had a hard job before me, one that every child, who had a whipping father or mother, has had to rustle with. No use denying it. It’s a solid truth and I know it. The truth of the matter is there is no truth in the statement.
Father lived and grew, much the same as other boys of his age and time, who had Creek like “ Brush Creek” to run off from home and go to. All of father’s brothers were brought up under the same influences as he. All of them would run off from home and wander and play along the banks of that creek all day, catching frogs and tadpoles, to keep from helping their mother at home.
My father was married while he was in his seventeenth year,
and my mother in her fifteenth year, near
1st.----- William Henry, born on the 21st day of March, 1835:-
2nd----- Philip F. born
3rd----- John A. born
4th----- Samuel Y. born
5th----- Elizabeth A. December 29th, 1842:-
6th----- Charles A. born
7th----- Abraham A. born
8th----- Mary M. born
9th----- Margret E. born
10th---- Joseph W. born
11th---- Daniel H. born
12th---- Lydia A. born
All my parent’s children lived and grew to manhood and womanhood and to become heads of families, except my sister Margret E., who died at the age of 32, without having married, and my brother Charles A. who was killed in the battle of Okoloni, in the State of Mississippi, on the 22nd day of February, 1864, without having been married. He was only 18 years old at the time of his death, and was a member of the 7th Indiana Cavalry Volunteers, in the Civil War.
Margret E., was the ninth child, died in
My father died on the 9th day of February, 1879,
in the present town of
Father, at the time of his death, was a member of the
Mother has been drawing a pension of $12.00, per month, as
the dependant mother of Charles A., mention of whose death has been mentioned
above. She was the oldest child of Henry and Elizabeth (Stewart) Mickle, and
was born on the 20th day of July, 1818, in
The History and Recollections of my own life, as I recall them to mind at this late day, have not at all times been spotless and pure, but they have been the best, I believe, that could have been possible under the circumstances, that governed me at times, that I could do, or make. I am not one to say of my life, that if I had my life to live over again I would live a great deal different than I have lived. I believe I have lived the best I could have lived, living at the time I did.
The conditions, which surrounded me in and during my early days, I did not make them and could not have undone them had I been ever so much inclined to do so. “ What cannot be cured must be endured,” was the lot of my life, in my younger days. I shall not write of all I did and tried to do. If I did some parts of my life would be very uninteresting to the reader, and some of it would make me very much ashamed, even at this late date.
There would be much that no one in this day and age of the world would believe, and I do not feel like straining your respect and consideration for my truth and veracity, by telling things, which in my childhood days were of common occurrences, but for several years last past, have been relegated to the shades of oblivion. It would be too much to undertake, to try to make the world of to-day believe, that the doings, customs, and home-lives and society rules of those days, as we have to tell them, were true.
I must content myself with making general statements, and leave oceans for the impartial imaginations of the reader. Some things I would not want told. Some that my associates at the different stages of my life, would not want told. Much of it has no value to any one but to me, and of value to me, only because nobody else knows it. Many of the doings of my younger life, will not bear repeating, and nobody knows that any better than I do. Some of them want to memory lost and some are nobody’s business, not even my own.
My reticence and forebearance in these matters, I ask to have respected, for the reason I am not obligated to tell anything of myself or associates, unless I want to. Stick a pin right there. I am going to tell enough of the right side of my life’s doings to show my life as free of error as possible, and make the wrong side of my life, look as bright and spotless as the truth will permit.
Nothing will not be put down, either for me or against me, especially the latter, which is not strictly true, and if you can find anything that shows me off in an unfavorable light, you can imagin, not realize, what a struggle I had with myself before I consented to have it written, and while it may not interest with a great deal of intensity, it is strictly true, but subject to a warp, in some instances.
While some parts may appear to be a little colored up for occasion, and other may appear to be entirely devoid of of that ornamental quality, known as “ rich, rare and racy,” yet you may be sure that in some instances there was no rich, rare or racy matters interspersed in the occasions that brought forth the incidents, while in others, there was just a little too much of the “ rich, rare and racy,” for publication, and that a sense of modesty and propriety impels me to refrain from wading out in the deep waters, of the said “ rich, rare and racy.”
Again, it is almost next to impossible to write of the incidents and occurrences, without having made notes, in after years, with the same accuracy and vividness, one could have done at the time of their occurrence, and were passing in review before you. Such occurrences and incidents, in long years after they transpire, become, as it were, blended together in one’s mind, and numbers of our best people, fail into the common error of thinking that the places and things they were very familiar with forty and fifty years ago, remain the same in their memory to-day; They make no allowance for the memory changing, but think the change was all in the person or object.
This condition of memory is not infrequent, but it is universal. What you see to-day, you will never see it the same, again. What is to-day to the sight and mind in reality, will never again be so. To-day is here now; to-morrow will not be here until to-morrow. You will not be to-morrow just as you are to-day. What you see to-day, you will never see it the same again. Frequently two entirely different and distinct incidents, taking place at different times and at different places, become blended together in one’s mind in such manner that we are wholly unable to separate the two, that we may ascribed truly to each circumstance, the parts that belong to each.
In the cases just mentioned, which has changed or lost the naturalness of the occasion, the memory or the occurrences themselves? Life is a great problem; the mind a greater. Life is a stern reality; the mind a phantom. Life may be analyzed; the mind never will be. Life is a known quantity, the mind an unknown one. You may comprehend Life, but you will never know mind.
We frequently get the time of one occurrence, and the place of another blended as if were one occurrence. This condition exists in a greater degree when long years have lapsed since the tine of the occurrences. At first we can separate each occurrence and correctly place the incidents of each, in their respective places. After long years have intervened, and we have grown old, we are unable to separate the incidents of the two occurrences and place them in their places as they occurred.
Errors of this kind very frequently occur, especially with aged persons, concerning occurrences which occurred in early life, and you will be utterly unable to make them think or believe otherwise. You will ha[r]dly make then believe that they are mistaken, for the[y] believe they have a very clear perception of the whole mater, and very often will beat you back with assertion that they “ remember the whole thing as clearly as though it had only occurred yesterday.”
I am only human, and am as liable to mix and blend two different occurrences together as one, in some of their parts, as other elderly persons do. In this way errors may creep into my writings. If I err it will be the fault of fading memory and faulty recollections, due to advancing age.
I was born on the 21st day of March, 1835, in a
log cabin, near the
The village at the time of my birth was not as populous as
the other larger towns and Cities around it, and I never was able to accurately
determine whether the fact of my being born there added any luster to the
place, or whether I gained renown by being born within its hallowed precincts.
One thing is certain;
However, at the time of my birth,
The beautiful stream of “ Brush Creek,” flowed north and south about two hundred yards west of the cross roads: Southward it flowed though Ben Honeyman’s farm, in all the splendor of a mighty stream. Northward, it flowed through “ Old Wheelock Farm,” The Creek, west of the cross-roads, was one o the the most beautiful and picturesque streams of that region. Large and stately Willows grew upon its verdant banks in such profusion that the rippling waters of of the glorious Brook were hidden from the sun’s beams in the hot summers, and the tall bulrushes, which grew down to the water’s edge, imparted a greenish hue to the ripples and eddies of the stream, which were, at once, both inviting and refreshing, and which to this day, brings a moisture to my eyes when “ Fond recollection recalls them to view.”
The Creek as it flowed on south, after crossing the
No place on earth was ever half so inviting as this “
swimming hole.” The very though of it would take half of the population of
This “ swimmin hole,” was the Sunday as well as the week day
resort of all the youth in
The most usual crowd seen around the “ swimmin hole” was the young boy, who had ran away from home, in order to get shut of helping their mothers wash, and to keep from taking care of their little brothers and sisters, and others to get clear of picking up chips and wood for their mammas to do the washing and others had other excuses and some had none. The day was generally passed in swimming, jumping, wrestling and all the other games and amusements of childhood.
The large tract of land, before spoken of, and known as the woods pasture, in which this “ swimmin hole” was located, was not thickly covered with trees, like a woods would be, but it had only a few trees upon it, on account of its long usage as a woods pasture by the owner, “ uncle Ben,” as we were all used to call him. This woods had been used and called a woods pasture so long that the memory of the “ oldest inhabitant” ran not to the contrary.
Go to that “ swimmin hole” at any time of the day in summer time, and your would see a crowd of “boys” and “ other fellers,” in the “ swimmin hole,” on the banks playing “mumble peg,” or wrestling, jumping and engaged “in walking on their hands,” and a thousand other games and plays now forgotten and obsolete. At times the scene would be further enlightened by the presence of older “ boys” and “ men.”
Besides the few “ chinkapin trees,” named above, there were several logs, large and small, lying round over the woods pasture. Ducks, Geese, Muskrats, Minks, and ground squirrels were in evidence at every step. Geese eggs and Duck eggs could be found in abundance in the spring, and no fun on earth, was more exciting and interesting to the small boys, who inhabited Nashville, than to go down to the “ Swimmin hole” and chase ground squirrels and muskrats, along the logs or on the fences, and in the water.
Later in the summer, the young goslins and ducks, made the scene a lively one to look at, as well as affording the young Nimrods of Nashville, an excellent opportunity for practice with the bow and arrow, and opportunity, I am proud to say, was never neglected by any of our crowd, only when some of “ uncle Ben’s” folks were in sight, or when we knew they were watching us.
Hunting Geese and Duck eggs, was a past time, too, that afforded much amusement and excitement for the crowd. In addition, some of the younger boys would gather as many of these eggs as they could and take them to the little store in town and trade them for marbles, fish hooks and lines, and now and them for some “ Dog-legged twist” for smoking purposes, and many a sick boy, have I seen laying piled up on the bank of the “ swimmin hole,” or under some of the chinkapins, vomiting and looking as white as a “Ghost.”
Such times as we did use to have were never seen before nor heard of since. Everything on earth went with us. No kind of fun or game, escaped our notice. Even geese, Ducks and their eggs, were frequently the victims of our boyish sports. Nothing on earth was finer sport to us than to catch a dog and put his tail in the mouth of some small land tortoise, and let the dog go after the tortoise had closed its mouth on the dog’s tail. Talk about fun, this sport was ahead of all fun ever thought of. It beat tyeing tin pails or tin pans to his tail.
That “ Old Swimmin Hole,” is still remembered by many an old man, in distant and far away lands, who in his youth spent a great deal of his time indulging in the sports I have so imperfectly described. Many an old heart is still longing for the old times spent at and around the “ Old swimmin hole,” in this woods-pasture. Although separated and and far apart, we often long for “The old house at home,” the “ Old swimmin hole” in “ Uncle Ben’s” “ Woods pasture.”
An other pleasant sport with the boys, was hunting birds’ nests. While this practice is not to be commended, as is the case with several other sports engaged in by us boys, it was one of the eager sports of all of us. None excepted, and many are the funny incidents connected with this special past time, engaged in by all of us. The poor Snipes suffered in their nest building, as did several others.
About the most amusing incident of young bird and nest hunting, which I can recall at this day, occurred with Dave Younce and Henry Eller, in their endeavors to capture a nest of young Shitepokes in a nest which they had found. The young birds were in a nest about 15 feet high, which had been built in a Sycamore tree, about one foot in diameter, growing in one of the backwater places along Brush Creek.
The two boys were not over six or seven years of age, and the nest of young birds being so high presented quite an obstacle to their securing the much coveted prize. The body of the tree was dead and had no limbs on it nearer than the limb, on which the nest of young birds rested. After much planning and trying, Henry, by dint of much labor and struggling, had climbed up the trunk of the bare tree sufficiently near to reach out his hand and take the young birds in custody.
As he was about to put his hand on one of the young birds, the whole nestful of birds left the nest with a jump, and at the same moment discharged a teacup full, each, of think watery excrement right slap into Henry’s face and neck. Every bird in that nest, about six or seven, hit the mark on Henry’s face, neck and breast at the same time. The discharge, coming as it did, with so much force, and so unexpected to Henry, knocked him clear off his base. Being so badly disconcerted and his mouth, eyes, nose and hair full of the stinking putrid excrement of the young birds, he forgot where he was and lost his hold of the tree and fell into about three feet of dirty, filthy, slimy water.
Dave rushed to Henry’s rescue, and about the time they both reached the bank, full of filth, scum and dirty green water, they were, both, taken suddenly in charge by Dave’s mother, and it was several days before either of the boys enjoyed the refreshments offered by a chair, and the banks of that particular part of Brush Creek, did not know the boys, again, for several weeks.
The foregoing are only a few of the incidents and mishaps,
encountered by the boys of
Since I left
My young days, till about my eighth year, were mostly spent
in and around
Nothing puzzled me as much as trying to solve the conditions of the unexplored regions beyond the horizon I could see so close to me, and I was fully as badly puzzled when I went to Dayton, sixteen miles south of Nashville, and found the same conditions of the horizon, and I in the center, existing in Dayton, as existed in Nashville.
At
I resolved that on my return home I would keep close watch
and see where the world at
Say, stop right there. There came another problem for me to solve, and that was, Did my sky travel with me as I traveled? Now talk about a puzzle; I had one strong enough to hold the oldest. If my sky moved what became of the other people’s sky? Did their sky turn and travel as my sky did? If so, how was it that there was no mixing up of the skies? No tangling of the horizons? And who kept them from getting tagled and mixed up? Say; just talk about boy puzzles all you please. If you have never been a boy, you don’t know anything about puzzles. That’s All.,---
As I came home from
At this point was the limit of my knowledge, and here I let my mind rest, on that point, at least, until by growing knowledge and the advancements of age I could find out that air, atmosphere and space extended beyond the limits of vision penetrations, and the zenith of the heavens was always directly above me, no difference where I might be.
The heavens always appeared spread out over the part of the earth where I was, just like a big round tent would spread out and cover all within it. This puzzled me a long time, for I wanted to get to the walls of the horizon on the ground as I could to the tent.
But this never happened. The sky was always the highest just over my head, and came down to the ground at about the same distance from me, no difference where I was, and I was always in the center of what appeared to me to be a great circle.
I suppose the same troublesome thoughts and perplexities attend all young persons, when they get to that age that they want to learn about everything they see as they grow up into youth. With some, no doubt, the bewilderment and perplexity is greater than with others. I have supposed that all human beings in their youth pass through the same gradations of knowledge in much the same way that I did, except that some travel much faster than others, owing to the different conditions confronting them.
Here, for a while, I must leave this point of my history, no difference how enticing and inviting it may be, and introduce some other matters, connected with my early life, which was taking place about the same time, and without which a great many of my early struggles for a place in the would be lost to the world.
At my birth I was named “ Henry,” in honor of my maternal grandfather, “ Henry Mickle;” After I had become about eight years old I prefixed “ William,” to my name at the request of a certain friend of my father’s family, whose first name was “ William,” and who was a frequent visitor to our home. My parents consented to the addition to my name and thereafter I became “ William Henry Younce,” so known and called by everyone.
In my youthful days school facilities in that part of
Besides, the roads, most of them, at least, were nothing but paths cut out through the woods, and in the winters were covered with water and mud, to such an extent, that if we attempted to go to school, we had to “ coon it,” along the logs and fences, to keep out of the water, and very frequently [fell?] off the logs or fence into the water, and then got wet and nearly frozen and got a whipping at night from our parents for being so awkward.
The roads from home to the “ old log school house,” always led through swamps and water, and were always so bad and far that most of the time children could not go to school, unless they were taken there on horseback by their fathers, who had horses. If your father did not have any horses we took the water and fences, with the results before stated.
This was the condition in the winters, and in the summers we had no schools except “ subscription schools,” and these cost our parents money, and the people who lived in the rural districts were, as a general rule, too poor to pay, and besides this the older children had to stay home and help their mothers take care of the younger children and wash the dishes, help wash the clothes, and gather up limbs, chips and wood in the woods for “ firewood.” Run errands for our mothers, and make ourselves generally useful in all lines of work that we might be called on to do that came our way, and, I tell you it came our way pretty thick and often, at times.
One other great drawback to attending schools in those days, was the want of books. Blackboards were unknown, and if we had had one, the teacher would not have known what to do with it, unless to make a bulletin board out of it for the larger boys and girls to have their appointments noted down. Schoolbooks, in those days, were so scarce and so high priced, that parents, as poor as mine, with large families, could not buy them.
There were no glorious truancy laws in those days, and no big ugly truant officers, who would date to molest or make afraid, the young loiterer had a good time staying home, and had no trouble making excuses to the teacher when he did go, unless it was to get to come to school next day. Swinging on limbs and on grapevines was about the way the summer schools were spent. Hardly ever anything more laborious or irksome. Sometimes the order of amusement was changed and the time and the teacher would have a run-a-round made and then, of all the times on earth, we would have it with the “ run-a-round,” at “ School.” No wonder we liked our schoolteacher. Who could help it? All we had to do, was to play all day at school, and go home at night and tell our parents what a good teacher we had.
But the worst of all, the scarecety of clothes was a great drawback to what little fun we did have. The entire suit of both boys and girls until they arrived at the age of 8 & 9 years of age, in the summer time generally consisted of a single garment, a “ tow linen shirt,” that reached from the neck to the feet, cut straight, sewed together at the sides, and had a hole cut out of the top for the head to be put through, and a draw string to tie the collar close around the neck. This garment in general constituted the “ Sunday and week days” suit of all little boys and girls, in summer. Of course this style of dressing belonged exclusively to the children of poor parents.
Some few of our neighbors were in good circumstances and rich, enough to supply their own children with good, clean and warm clothes, and plenty of schoolbooks, and all the other facilities, to be had at that day, sufficient to attend the schools in winter, without any of the hardships and sufferings of the poorer classes. The children of the wealthier class had ample opportunities, time and means to attend school, both winter and summer. The result was that they advanced much faster in their studies than those who only attended in the summer, or a day now and then. Another result was, the better fed and better clothed sons and daughters of wealthy parents, usually and generally, got all the attention of the school master, and the children of poor parents got very little attention from that august personage, if any.
The general rule of action on the part of the teacher was, if any of the pupils received any favors from him, it was always the children of rich parents. The children of poor parents were, always, more backward in their studies than children of the richer parents, simply on account of the reasons above stated, and they gave the teacher more trouble in his work on that account, than did the more favored ones. Besides, who is it that will not yield the knee to curry favor with the owner of acres and dollars?
The birch and ferule played a very important part in the duties of the teacher, and formed a very conspicuous instrument of education in his hands, while imparting his limited supply of attainments to those who were reciting. It was a general understanding that if the teacher was not fit for anything else, he was always fit to use these instruments of torture, and so he was. There was no mistake in that.
On account of the foregoing troubles and difficulties, I never attended schools but very little in my life. I attended some few schools at the time I was 7 to 10, but had no books, being sent to school more to be out of the way at home, than anything else. I never wrote a line in a copy-book, nor “ ciphered,” a sum in Arithmetic in my life in my life in school when I attended as a pupil. Three months would more than cover all the time I spent in the school room as a pupil.
A Spelling book, and a small testament were about all the books I had the pleasure of “ studying” in school, and it was amusing, if not blasphemous, to have fifteen small boys and girls in a class trying to spell out and read of the life, death and resurrection of the Savior, and none of us with comprehension enough to understand or know if He were one of our neighbors or lived eight or ten miles away.
You may laugh at me, but I tell you that while I was spelling and trying to read the story of the cross I often wondered how far the place of occurrence of that tragedy was from our school, and if I could not slip away some day and go to the place and see the cross, still standing on the top of Mount where it had been planted, and look into the tomb, and wondered if I could find the angels and learn the whole history of the case.
Neither the teachers nor any of the pupils knew any more about the place, time or circumstances than I did, and as a matter of fact, I never got to go and see the place, nor the angels. When I asked my mother, one night, after we had got quietly seated after supper, I was surprised to learn that she knew about the matter and told me a great deal more than I had learned at school, and I well remember asking her why she did not tell me about that terrible death so that I could have went and seen it.
When she told me the whole circumstance had occurred before I was born, I got into more trouble, for at school we had fixed it in our minds, both teacher and pupils, that the thing had happened but a few months before: that it all had occurred at a little village, about ten or twelve miles away, called “ Ludlow Falls,” But when my mother had told me more of the history of the crucifixtion and got me to understand it better, I soon learned the whole story.
That imperfect manner of teaching the scriptures in my early days has not been fully obliterated, and overcome, even up to this time. The lessons I received from my parents and teachers, concerning Christ, and his teachings, his death, resurrection and ascension, I obtained more through the superstition and traditions, of those who were trying to teach me than I learned through enlightened intelligence of my instructors.
Since I have grown old, I often wonder to myself, “ If parents and teachers are responsible for instilling such trash and nonsense, as “ Witch stories,” “ Ghosts,” “ Graveyard visitants,” and a thousand and one other “ hobgoblin stories into the minds of their children and pupils.” If error is sin, and sin is to be accounted for, and punishment therefore, inflicted on the wrongdoer in a future state, there will be some big accounts to square up, after death.
The torture and fear children suffered in those days, by being threatened with “ Rawhead and Bloody Bones,” for our shortcomings, by both, parents and teachers, is unimagineable at this day and age of the world. “ Rawhead and Bloody Bones,” was pictured to us as a great headless and bloody monster, and was said to be kept in the closet of our house for the purpose of tearing us to peaces in a minute, if we were turned in to his dark place.
Since I have grown older, and have long since ceased to regard those idle and foolish stories as truthful ones, yet the deep impressions they made on my young and tender mind, by being told me, and being threatened with them, by those who had a right to command me, and teach me, and upon whom I had a right, both by nature and condition, to rely [on] those impressions, I say, became, as it were, a second nature within me, and to this day I can not shake myself free from the blighting hold they obtained upon my infancy and youth.
I never expect to see a dead person come out of a grave, nor a ghost go parading round through a graveyard, at night, Still I would rather, provided I have my own way, not sleep in a graveyard at night, especially when it might happen to be raining, and accompanied with much vivid lightning, and heavy hard thunder. I feel that I am not alone in those feelings. It is one of the cruel barbarisms of an ignorant age, that clings to us through all after life.
Newspapers were unknown in my youthful days. The first Newspaper my father ever subscribed for, was the “ Cincinnati Liberty Hall and Weekly Gazette” in 1847, at which time I had grown old enough and had learned to read a little. Mail facilities forbid the luxury of newspapers in the rural districts, and we had to go over three miles to get our Gazette each week.
I had been placed in the cooper shop when I was about nine
years old, and worked at the cooper trade with my father for several years
afterwards. When I was twelve years old I could make as good flour barrel as
any man. I was quick and handy with tools, and liked the business better than
anything else that offered itself in those days. I never worked on the farm
much, although my father, sometime afterward purchased a farm of forty acres,
close to the city of
On the 18th day of November 1850, while in the woods with my father, cutting flour barrel timber, a serious accident befel me, which I believe, changed my future. Up to this time I had not had any chance to educate myself, in even the common rudiments of the primary branches. I had learned to read and write a little, and but very little. While cutting barrel timber, as stated above, one of the trees fell against me, and dislocated my right knee, and bruised it very badly.
My knee and limb was a long time getting well, and while those confined with my injury, a kind Presbyterian lady, who lived next house to my father’s house, brought me books to study and read. Among the books she brought me was an Arithmetic, Geography, Grammar, History, and some other school books, and gave me lessons, she having been a teacher prior to her marriage.
I was an apt scholar, with great memory, and had much relish
for the studies she assigned me. I progressed rapidly and satisfactorily and to
the entire satisfaction of my fair teacher, who spent at least two and four
hours each day with me, and by the time
About
On the 21st day of September, 1854, I married
Miss Ann Mariah Lowry, a niece of the Hon. F.L. Lowrey, a Judge of the Supreme
Court of Ohio. The marriage took place at
On the 8th day of March, 1856, I loaded my goods into two wagons and started for Indiana, in which State I had determined to make my future home, and located on the 16th day of March, 1856, on a farm about [four?] miles southwest of the present city of Eaton, in Union Township, [in?] Delaware County, Indiana. I obtained work on a farm at very small wages, and worked at farm work in the summer, and in the winter taught school in an adjoining district to the one I lived in, traveling two and one-half miles each morning and evening to and from the “ old log” school house.
The next year after my arrival in
In the fall of 1856, occurred the presidential election, the
first I had ever been engaged in as a voter. The candidates were: James
Buchanan of
The turning point in my political prefferences, and the argument that outweighed all others with me, was the campaign cry of the democrats, as enunciated in the Democratic Platform adopted at Cincinnati, at the national convention of that year by the democratic party, viz: “ Non-interference by congress with slavery in the territories,” and “ Popular Sovereignty,” of the citizens of the territory on the question of slavery. That plank in the platform that year made me a democrat up to 1888.
In the presidential campaign of 1860, I joined my political
fortunes with the
During the presidential campaigns of 1856 and 1860, a new phrase [in?] political economics, was coined, viz: “ Popular Sovereignty,” nicknamed by the republicans, “ Squatter Sovereignty, and Popular Sovereignty.”
As I understood the political principles of the two great political parties, in 1856, the democratic party held that congress had not the power under the constitution of the United States, to interfere in any way with slavery in the territories belonging to the government, but that the question should be left with the bona fide inhabitants of the territories as in the case of States.
Sadly, this is where William Henry’s narrative stops. I am hopeful that someday I will find the missing parts of his manuscript. I am eager to learn more about his political affiliations, what stirred him to become a lawyer, what happened to his first wife Ann, and how he came to meet his second wife, Lydia Jane McLain, the mother of our ancestors. His passion stirs the soul; his words harvest a longing for more tales of our family history. I hope you have enjoyed this work, scant as it is.
--Darlene